


Love Transcends A Wall

by Kateis_Cakeis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones (Video Game 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, but like previously it was established
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateis_Cakeis/pseuds/Kateis_Cakeis
Summary: When the wights crumbled, Gared knew it was almost time to head south. To Ironrath. The threat was over, the North Grove no longer required protection. He needed to know if House Forrester survived.But seeing Jon again was not part of the plan.Once, he had chosen his family before all else. But now? Well, four years could change a lot in people.And it was never a secret that Gared cared deeply for Jon. Maybe he still did.





	Love Transcends A Wall

“It was the right thing to do,” Gared whispered, placing a hand on Elsera’s shoulder.

“I know…” She smiled faintly. “Thank you, Gared.”

“Now we’ll go to Ironrath?” Josera asked, as they all stared out at the rows of buried bodies.

“Not until the conflict in the south is over.”

Elsera hummed. “Are your dreams that sure?”

“Ash will rain down.” He skimmed his hand over his recently trimmed beard. “But there’s always salvation for those who defeat a tyrant.”

“Your Jon?”

Gared ducked his head. “We’ll see.”

He walked away from the graves. The past years had been tough. The North Grove had been attacked nonstop when the Night King marched south. Luckily, they’d had a lot of undead then, due to gaining the trust of Free Folk that never went south. They kept them safe within the Grove, and in return, they offered their dead for blood magic rituals or to rise as warriors, to keep the Grove strong.

Gared had more power over the warriors than Elsera, he didn’t need to bleed nor speak to control them. While she had to bring them back with her blood magic, he could give them orders with a simple gesture, as if he channelled the magic in the earth to control those who had once fallen. It… didn’t make much sense beyond his power as a greenseer. Something that had come as a shock in the early days of staying in the North Grove.

The Night King had wanted the refuge destroyed. He’d been trying to do as much for as long as Elsera and Josera were protecting it. Within the largest ironwood tree was magic untapped, trapped by the Children of the Forest to draw power away from the White Walkers. The North Grove itself was flooded with magic, allowing to act as both a barrier and a place of great power. If destroyed, it would have only made the Night King stronger. Part of the Wall being ripped apart had allowed magic to leak out, but if the North Grove had succumbed… that would have been it.

Not to mention, failing to protect the North Grove, would have broken the ancient promise between the first Forresters and the Children of the Forest. Whether they were extinct or not, that promise had meant a great deal thousands of years ago. It still had to be honoured.

In the end, they had been in the middle of a battle when all the wights crumbled. That was the day _all_ the dead fell, as Elsera relinquished control. The Free Folk had since left, going back to their homes. Gods know how many survived, hopefully enough for their clans to rebuild. It all depended on if those who went south returned north. But their numbers… didn’t look as strong as before. It was a tragedy.

He sat in his hut, peeling the wooden necklace engraved with the North Grove’s sacred symbols from his neck. The power of this place was vast when you lived within it, their powers were amplified. It was why Elsera could raise the dead within the confines of the Grove. It was where the whispers were more concentrated too, but Gared knew they could be heard elsewhere.

It would have been useful if he’d known that when he was a child. All the Forrester children feared the weirwoods once. They would dare each other to go sit by the one in the grove, to see what would happen. Rodrik did so only once and was left shocked but never said anything. Asher used to stay by the tree for hours, sharpening his daggers and swords. He often said the weirwood would make sounds, but never said anything more. And Mira… she only ever got near once, but never sat by it.

Gared wasn’t aware if Talia, Ethan and Ryon ever feared the weirwoods. But them being Forresters meant they could hear the whispers regardless.

The history of the Forresters was deeply connected to the Children of the Forest. Forresters earned the respect of the Children because of their special connection to the weirwoods. It led them to teach the first Forresters how to grow and harvest ironwood, so that it kept its strength. Like weirwoods, ironwood was precious to the Children.

Gared pulled Talia’s necklace from his pocket, running his thumb over the ironwood tree. Forrester… It was such a precious name. And if it wasn’t for the whispers, Gared would still think he was a Tuttle. The whispers had been eager to tell him, out of some kind of respect. Only descendants of the first Forresters could hear the whispers. It should have been obvious, that Gregor was his father. It had been a rumour once; people had questioned why Gared looked so similar.

A rumour that had been shot down by Duncan. Of course he knew, but how much he’d known was uncertain. It didn’t matter, not now. Not after so many years had passed since he’d last seen them. If any of them were left at all. The conflict with the Whitehills could have ended in any way. Gared doubted it was still going on. Either the Whitehills were gone, or the Forresters were. There was no other way.

Not after Ethan’s death at least.

A hoot from the doorway pulled Gared from his thoughts. And there stood Tiff, his beautiful owl and friend. She hopped into the room and settled by Gared on the arm of his chair. Her mottled brown wings were looking particularly shiny, as if she’d just maintained them before coming to see him.

He gave her a small tickle down her side. “You always know when I’m feeling down.”

She chirped.

“Yeah…” He looked over the necklace, opening it up to see the weirwood. “I want to see it again, but Gods know if there will be a place to return to.”

He closed the necklace back up as Tiff blinked at him. He would see Ironrath again, whether he would see a ruin, or a thriving house, all depended on who won the conflict. And all that happened after that.

\--

“What if the Whitehills occupy Ironrath?” Elsera asked, pulling at her sleeve.

Gared clenched his jaw. “Then we’ll kill them.”

“And the groves?”

“If the Whitehills have destroyed everything, we’ll rebuild. That’s why we have the seeds.”

Josera shook his head, grunting. Shadow growled along with him. “We should have gone south years ago.”

Gared whisked around, facing him. “If we had, many more Free Folk would be dead. _We’d_ be dead. The Night King would have destroyed the North Grove and where would that have left us?”

Josera furrowed his brow, anger in his eyes. “If we had gone south, Ironrath would be safe.”

“No matter what, Forresters survive. We’re as strong as the ironwood, Josera. If Ironrath stands or not, I know our siblings are out there somewhere.”

“I hope you’re right, Gared,” Elsera said.

Gared sighed, walking slightly ahead of the two. Sure, he had regrets. But protecting the North Grove was not one of them. It was important to keep the old ironwood trees safe. To keep the power encased. And they had succeeded.

He looked up, watching Tiff playfully dodge and weave around the trees. She spun in the air, seemingly doing a manoeuvre, but it all went wrong as she almost smacked herself into a tree. She’d barely missed it. The poor thing.

“Hey! Get down here, you silly owl!” Gared said, laughing his head off as Tiff spiralled down and landed happily on his shoulder.

Tiff chirped at him, nipping at his clothes.

“We’re still going south. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it.”

She hooted in his ear, shaking her wings.

“We’ll only know if Ironrath is safe if we go.”

She ruffled her feathers.

Gared sighed, dragging his palm down his face. “I need to know who is alive.”

“Talking to your bird again?” Sylvi asked, coming out of nowhere. He hadn’t seen her in so long. She wasn’t the brave girl anymore, she was truly becoming a young woman, who had survived the worst of what the world had to give. Taller, muscular, and clearly battle worn. Her hair was neatly tied up in a bun. And she held her spear at her side. She was older, but very much the same.

“Yes.” Gared regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you went south.”

She gestured to the trees, where Free Folk were passing through. Oh… For all that went, too few were alive. While the remaining clans had been hit hard by the Night King, Gared had hoped those who had left had a better time of it. Yet… that didn’t seem to be the case. It was only when Gared noticed the sounds of horses that his thoughts were confirmed.

This was the Free Folk coming home.

He stepped into the path of one, only to be struck in the chest by too many feelings all at once. There… right in front of him was Jon. His hair slightly blowing in the wind, making him look majestic. Gared hadn’t expected, hadn’t _thought_ he would ever see Jon again. Their lives had become so different, so separate… To see him, here, it was _so_ _good_. He looked well, for someone who had been through too much.

“Jon?” he said slowly, saying his name for the first time in a long while.

Jon slipped off his horse, his eyes wide and mouth parted. “Gared…”

Gared curled a hand around his stomach, tears pricking at his eyes. Tiff chirped before launching off his shoulder and finding a branch in the trees surrounding them. “You’re alive.”

Jon chuckled wetly, approaching cautiously. “ _You’re_ alive?”

The man atop the other horse inclined his head, walking away with the Free Folk and a direwolf, Ghost, Gared presumed. Jon acknowledged this, nodding to them. They were giving them space. Elsera, Josera and Shadow disappeared into the trees too. Seemed people knew this wasn’t a moment to intrude on. Two long lost friends… reunited. But they had never just been friends, had they? Everyone in the Night’s Watch knew, once. Or at least pretended to know.

Long lost lovers.

Jon walked towards Gared, and as soon as he was close, they pulled each other into a tight hug. Gared was immediately swamped by Jon’s warmth, relishing in the safety of his arms, as he himself clung on. His chest constricted as he wrapped his arms fully around Jon. So many feelings ran through him like wildfire. He closed his eyes, burying his face into the curls of Jon’s hair. To be in his arms again, it felt like home. As if nothing could touch them, even though it could.

“You’re alive…” Jon repeated, whispering it into Gared’s hair.

“A story for another time.”

“Gared, please…?”

He closed his eyes, clenching his fist into the fabric of Jon’s cloak. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You were always going to leave,” Jon whispered. Ah, so he _had_ picked up on that. “Despite _us_.”

“Yes… I was always going to put the future of House Forrester above everything. My old lord knew more than he let on. A lot more”

“What came after?” Jon’s voice was so quiet, as if his experience in the past years had tested him to his very limits.

“The North Grove.”

Slowly, Jon pulled back from the hug, settling his hands on Gared’s shoulders. He looked deep into his eyes, searching. Gared had a feeling what he was looking for, to seek out a lie, but he held nothing but the truth. He grasped Jon’s forearms, rubbing his thumbs over his clothing. He tried to project honesty in his gaze.

“You’re telling the truth.”

“Aye. The North Grove is a refuge, holding magic within it. Wights attacked us almost every day for four years…  The Night King wanted to release the power the Grove holds. We were there to make sure he didn’t.” He sighed, frowning. “We made treaties with Free Folk clans to use their dead for our own undead army. Without it, we would have failed… We fought right until they crumbled all around us.”

Jon sucked in a breath. “My sister defeated the Night King.”

“Then I have her to thank. Because another battle may have killed me.” Gared looked away, ashamed of what he had done. What would Jon think if he knew everything? “I have done terrible things to survive. I am not the man you met and fell in love with.”

“Neither am I… We’re all haunted by our choices.”

Gared glanced back. “Some more than others.”

Jon placed his hand against Gared’s cheek. “I have loved and lost too many times… But you’re here. After it _all_. Still alive. That has to mean something.”

“It means the world.” He covered Jon’s hand with his own. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m so happy you’re alive.” Jon leant his forehead on Gared’s. “I felt so…” He let out a shaky breath, “betrayed, when you left. But I’d rather have this than a world where you died.”

“Me too… I’m sorry, for making you feel betrayed.”

“It’s in the past. Far worse things have happened since then.” Jon rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone. “You were only protecting yourself.”

“Yeah…” Gared closed his eyes, bracing himself for the answer to his next question. He had vague knowledge from his dreams, but no more than that. “What happened to you? Why are you back here?”

Jon pulled back from Gared, pacing away. He leant against the trunk of a tree. “Have you ever heard of Daenerys Targaryen?”

“I have. She helped fight against the Night King but hindered the south.”

“Bad news travels fast?”

“In dreams, yes.”

Jon raised an eyebrow yet shook it off. Gared would explain later. “I bent the knee to her. She was my Queen. I believed in her; I fell in love with her.” He folded his arms, looking to the ground. “Turns out…”

“You don’t have to say.” Gared gave Jon a small reassuring smile, hoping he wouldn’t say anything he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“I’m not a bastard…”

“Oh…”

“I couldn’t… Daenerys was my aunt, it wasn’t right. But she pulled away when–” Jon cleared his throat and Gared could see tears in his eyes. “Anyhow, when it came to King’s Landing and taking it from Cersei... We’d won, she had surrendered but… Daenerys burnt _everything_. Without regard for our own soldiers, for the children. She had guards slain in the streets long after the battle was over…”

Jon heaved in a breath, tears crawling down his face. All Gared wanted to do was run to him and hold him till everything was alright. But Jon needed to speak, anyone could see that. This was his moment to get it all off his chest, to let it go.

“When she arrested Tyrion… I knew… And he persuaded me and I– I killed her, Gared. She got close to me and we kissed and I just– stabbed her.” He slid down the trunk, landing on the ground. “I killed her.” His words came out strangled against his will to cry.

Gared did run to him now, crouching down and wrapping him up in his arms. Jon turned and cried into Gared’s chest. And all he could do was hold on tight, all he could do was give him comfort. Because Jon needed this, needed to be emotional in front of someone he trusted. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but the old bond was still there, and by the Gods, Jon needed that now.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Gared whispered, smoothing his hand down Jon’s back.

“It’s not.”

“It will… Some wounds may never heal, but you’re strong. You’re so strong.”

 “Why is life so complicated?” Jon asked, wiping his tears away, looking to Gared like he had all the answers.

“Because we make it complicated. People are a mess.” He smiled as Jon scoffed, seemingly amused. “But half the time, normal people, are just looking for a place to be themselves.”

“I think this is my place…”

Gared pressed his hand against Jon’s cheek. “Good.”

“Where’s yours?”

He frowned. Ironrath was once his home. But the North Grove had been his only worry for the past four years. “I don’t know anymore.”

“What about Ironrath?”

“We’re going south to see if it survived, to see if any Forrester did…”

Jon curled his arm around Gared’s waist, his eyes sympathetic. “But it’s been so long it might not be home anymore?”

“Aye… You were south of the Wall; do you know anything of Ironrath’s fate?”

“The Forresters fought with us to retake the North. All I know is, Asher Forrester is alive. And the House had forces of around two hundred men then.”

“Thank the Gods. The Whitehills were stronger after…” Gared breathed slow, trying to work through his emotions. Still, even now, thinking of the Twins disturbed him. “But to hear that Asher lives… is the best news I’ve heard in a long time.” He paused, sparing a thought for Rodrik, for Mira, for Talia, and Ryon. There was hope for them. “All Forresters are resilient… I can only hope all the siblings lived.”

“If they are as half as resilient as you,” Jon smiled gently, “they are more than likely to have survived.”

“Thank you, Jon. That helps.”

He inched closer, they were a hair’s breadth away, supported by the trunk of the tree. “Where do we go from here?”

Gared curled his hand into Jon’s hair. “You tell me.”

Jon bridged the gap, gently pressing his lips against Gared’s. There was an overwhelming sense of belonging. There was a sweetness and innocence to it, as Jon moved to cup Gared’s face, kissing a touch deeper, before pulling back. Gared opened his eyes slow, relishing in old feelings rising to the surface. Jon looked so soft, happy almost. It was beautiful to see, to witness.

“Return here, from the south, and that’s where we’ll go.” He sighed. “If you decide to stay at Ironrath, promise me you’ll tell me personally.”

Gared bit at his bottom lip. “I promise… Although, I doubt I could resist you.”

Jon, surprisingly, barked a laugh. “You never could.”

“I’ll return to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“You should. But I don’t break my word, unless my life is threatened.”

A small smile crept onto Jon’s face. “Well said.”

Gared gradually stood, offering his hand to Jon, pulling him up too. “Is the direwolf Ghost?”

“Yes.”

“Introduce me?”

Jon grinned, his guilt and grief hidden away for now, in favour of the guise of happiness. They walked in the general direction of where the others went. Most of the Free Folk were gone, likely still heading north. While others had stayed with the man on the other horse, though, he was sitting by them now. They seemed to be in a heated debate with Elsera and Josera. Sylvi, meanwhile, was watching the conversation back and forth, sharpening her spear at the same time.

“What’s going on here?” Gared asked, tilting his head in his confusion.

“Jon!” the man exclaimed. “Explain to these twins that the North Grove can’t be real.”

“Tormund, it’s real.” Jon approached Tormund and shrugged. “My friend, Gared, says he protected the Grove, kept the Night King from becoming more powerful.”

Tormund looked to Gared with a raised eyebrow, before looking back to Elsera and Josera. “But…”

Sylvi stood, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been there myself. Gared, Elsera and Josera are not liars, I know that much.” She briefly glared at Gared. That wound still ran deep, and Gared had no doubt that she would never forgive him.

“We protected Free Folk too, not all who stayed died,” Josera said. Shadow was sitting peacefully next to him, calm and collected just like Josera. He’d become more accepting of Free Folk over the years, once they started working together and left old opinions behind.

Tormund seemed to be almost moved by that. He nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

“Where’s Ghost?” Jon asked suddenly, looking all around.

Shadow growled lowly, hunkering down, moving his paws closer to himself. Elsera looked to be quite amused by the behaviour. Tiff chirped in the air, landing by Shadow and pecking at his toes. He moved one paw, revealing a sleeping Ghost underneath.

Josera smirked. “Your direwolf has taken to my bear, it seems.”

“An elder that stayed with us said that direwolves and snow bears can have a symbiotic relationship. I have no doubt Shadow and your Ghost recognise that ancient instinct,” Elsera mused, grinning at Shadow.

Jon hummed. “Old Nan used to say snow bears protected direwolves without a pack… Ghost lost most of his siblings.”

Shadow growled more so as Tiff bounced around him. Gared whistled and Tiff turned quickly, flying up to land on his shoulder. Gared stroked her gently, shaking his head. Josera tickled Shadow’s ear, which seemed to hit a nerve and Shadow shifted, allowing Jon to call Ghost over, who seemed all too happy to collapse at his feet and go back to sleep.

Gared chuckled. “Seems our animals are making fast friends.”

Tiff chirped, Shadow let out a yawn and Ghost howled tiredly. Smiling, Gared crouched down by Ghost. Jon gestured for him to go ahead when he was a little hesitant to disturb the tired direwolf. As he pulled off a glove and sunk his hand into the fur, Ghost lay back, showing no disapproval to the affection. While Tiff launched off his shoulder to land on Jon’s, staring at him with her dark eyes.

“I think Ghost likes you,” Jon said, raising a hand to Tiff, who looked eager for a pet.

“I think Tiff likes you.” He grinned, looking Jon in the eye. “This is home.”

Gared was sure he’d never seen Jon smile as bright as he did when he uttered those words. He was so content here, Gared could feel that. But in that moment alone, with the animals bonding, and everyone talking freely amongst themselves. Gared had never felt so at home.

\--

Soaring in the air was always exhilarating to Gared. He’d never warged Tiff much in battle, they were more effective as separate entities. But to scout out and search? They were better together. And flying down the valley leading to Ironrath was bringing back many memories. Of his childhood, of all the time he spent within those walls.

As he neared, he noticed the banners hanging down from the walls. The oh so familiar tree, with the sword in the middle. House Forrester had survived. However, the keep itself looked different. Before, much of the wood wasn’t ironwood and was lighter in colour. Now, all the wooden structures were made of ironwood. There were clear scorch marks on the stone. There had been a fire at one point, which likely caused the change from normal wood to ironwood.

He dropped the letter he’d been holding in Tiff’s claws next to a guard, hoping he’d read it. Then, he made a sharp turn before Tiff could be shot at and returned to the small alcove they were hiding in, near the start of the valley. When he returned to his own body, Tiff landed on his shoulder and he gave her a small stroke.

“Good news?” Josera asked quickly.

“House Forrester is still with us. Thank the Gods.”

Elsera grinned. “That is a relief.”

Josera patted Shadow. “Time to see our family, right, boy?”

Shadow huffed a breath in reply, looking to Josera like he was his entire world.

Gared moved out from the alcove, staring down the valley. He sighed. “Let’s see what awaits us.”

They walked up the valley confidently but not without caution. Even with the letter, there was doubt the guards would trust a snow bear coming at them. Gods know if any of these people would recognise Gared at all. Four years allowed a lot of time for new forces to be recruited. Especially with all the battles that must have happened.

As they got close enough to see the details of Ironrath, the guards lined themselves up along the battlements, aiming crossbows down at them. Gared expected no less. He suspected many threats had hit House Forrester head on, it was right to be wary. He raised his hands, as did Josera and Elsera. Shadow bowed his head while Tiff stared blankly.

“State your business!” one guard shouted.

“I’m Gared Tuttle! My mission is done, I’ve come to talk!” he shouted back, the lie of his last name tasting bitter on his tongue. He wasn’t Gared Tuttle at all, he was Gared Snow… And boy, would that be a shock to any Forrester who still lived.

One guard disappeared to be replaced by none other than Asher. An ugly scar was cut down the side of his face, and he leaned slightly to one side. Gared could tell, even from the ground, that he had injured his leg at one point. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn’t good.

“Gared… It’s really you!” Asher broke out in a grin, turning to his guards. “Let him in! Let him in!”

As the gates rose, Asher hurried up to them, with Talia behind him. She was… Gared hardly recognised her really. While she had grown into her features, she looked older than her age. Most likely due to the stresses of the Whitehills and everything else.

Her hair only came to her shoulder, tied in a plait. She wore a blue tunic, with a kind of armoured tunic over the top, kept neatly together with a belt. She had trousers on too, with thick leather boots. So unlike the dresses she used to wear. With the sword at her side, it was like she was ready for a battle at any time.

Gared noticed Royland in the background, arms folded, nodding to him. As he went to nod back, someone bowled into him, hugging tightly. He looked down to see Ryon… Still young, though, not as young as he was. There was a lot of change in him. He was much taller, he had grown out his hair to shoulder length, and when he pulled back, smiling, Gared noticed he had two teeth missing and a scar on his lip.

They all had their battle scars.

“It’s good to see you, Gared,” Ryon said, folding his hands in front of him.

Asher moved towards him, a cane in his right hand. Despite that, he barely had a limp. “It’s been eight fucking years.” He gave Gared a firm pat on the shoulder, grasping it, while balancing on his cane. “I’m glad to see you back.”

Talia approached him and gave him a brief hug. “You’re safe.” She gave him no time to reply as she looked to Elsera and Josera. “Who are they?”

Gared glanced over his shoulder and Tiff chirped. “We need to speak in private. All of us.”

Asher suddenly turned very serious, nodding. “We’ll talk in the hall.” His eyes snapped to Shadow. “But the bear stays here.”

“You can’t–” Josera tried to intervene.

“No. He’d barely fit in the keep.” He turned. “Beskha!”

A woman walked up to Asher, glaring at him. “I was right here, no need to shout, little brother.” She too wore clothing that would be perfect in a fight. Though hers was unlike any armour Gared had seen. “I’ll look after the stupid bear.”

“Shadow is _not_ stupid,” Josera said, stern. He pointed to Beskha. “If you hurt a hair–”

“I’ll look after him, don’t worry.”

“To the hall then,” Asher declared, already beginning to walk away.

None of them spoke on the way. Gared had no doubt that was due to him stressing they needed to speak in private. As they got to the hall, Asher dismissed the guards present. Tiff flew off Gared’s shoulder and stood proudly at the middle of the table, while everyone else sat down. Asher was the last to sit, in the Lord’s chair. It was strange to think of him as Lord Forrester, but he was.

“Gared,” Asher began, “Talia told me you were sent to the Wall. So how in the bloody hell are you here _now_?”

Gared rested his hands on the table, staring down at them for a moment. “I deserted, four years ago, when I was to be executed. I was sent to find the North Grove.” He smiled at Elsera and Josera. “And I found more than that, in the end.”

“The necklace.” Talia tilted her head. “Father always said to give it to you, if you were ever to head north.”

“It was father’s grand plan.” Asher folded his arms. “To send you north of the Wall one day. He’d taught Rodrik and I the basics, shortly before I was exiled. I never knew it all, but I knew you had to be sent there before ‘the worst of life comes to haunt us’ as father put it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose he meant the Night King and his wights.”

Gared nodded. “Seems so.”

“What is the North Grove?” Ryon asked, furrowing his brow.

“A place of great power. With ironwood trees taller than any in this grove,” Elsera said. “The Night King wanted it destroyed, to release a large pocket of magic trapped inside the grandest ironwood tree there is. Fortunately, we were there to stop the onslaught.”

Talia eyed Elsera. “And _who are you_?”

“I’m Elsera Snow.”

“I’m Josera Snow.”

Gared took a breath. He’d ensured them he would keep his promise to tell the truth… Their siblings deserved to know. “I’m Gared Snow. We’re all bastards of Gregor.”

“ _You_?” Asher gaped, staring at the three of them before composing himself. “Looks like our father spread his seed wide.”

“Asher!” Talia spluttered.

“What?!” he exclaimed, chuckling. “Nine children in total is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Hey, without them the Night King could have been stronger. And without us, Ironrath would be lost.” Ryon smiled at them all. “He was right to have many children. At least Forrester blood lives in us all.”

All amusement was wiped from Asher’s face. “I suppose. You do hear the whispers too, right?”

“That and more.” Gared gestured to Tiff. “I’m a warg and I have the Sight.”

“I’m a warg as well,” Josera said.

Elsera twisted her mouth. Hers was certainly harder to explain. “I practise blood magic, or at least, I used to.”

Talia’s eyes widened. “Blood magic… and– and wargs?” Her eyes focused on Gared for a long moment. “A greenseer?”

“Aye. My abilities only became known to me the longer I spent in the North Grove.”

“Wow…” Ryon breathed. “We are in the presence of greatness.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But it’s true.” Asher drummed his fingers off the table. “All Forresters can uniquely hear weirwoods whisper, it’s why we dared each other as children. Only for that to stop the day you told our father, Gared.”

He narrowed his eyes, remembering that day well. “They said my name.”

“But our father knew you were more. Probably knew Elsera and Josera were more too.”

“It’s what I like to believe,” Elsera said, smiling slightly at Asher.

“Then we were all meant to be and were in the right places at the right times.” He clenched his jaw, his eyes forlorn. “But this isn’t just about who you really are and what the North Grove is… I suppose you want to know who survived…”

“I have a feeling Duncan didn’t,” Gared said, frowning. “Considering he didn’t meet us at the gate.”

“He fought hard in the Battle of Ironrath, saved my life.” Asher swallowed thickly. “He died with honour.”

“That’s… I’m glad he was loyal till his dying breath.” Gared smiled. “It’s what he would have wanted.”

“Yes.”

“Mira died in King’s Landing,” Ryon murmured, his voice distant. “She stopped an evil merchant from trying to steal our House from us, by sticking to her values. She may have murdered a guard at the time, but she died with her integrity intact.”

“It’s all any of us would do for this House.” Gared glanced away. “She deserved better though.”

“She did.” Asher took a breath; his eyes were full of grief. “We lost Rodrik too.”

“I figured. When I didn’t see him...” He folded his arms. To think he saw Rodrik die because he didn’t get there in time, only to find out he survived, and then for him to die once and for all… It wasn’t fair.

“He sacrificed himself to save me… My big brother…” Asher closed his eyes. “It was either me or him, and he made sure I would be the one to survive.”

“He’d be glad, Asher. To know you’re still here, so strong.”

Asher picked up his cane, waving it to Gared. “Strong? You know, I wasn’t injured until that Gods be dammed battle against the dead. It was a stupid mistake on my part too. There I was, running from wights, only to decide to jump off the battlements and roll to safety from that dammed ice dragon.” He laughed, patting his left thigh, the injured leg. “I broke it in two, immediately finding myself in a losing one to one with a wight. I lucked out when they all crumbled.”

“Asher… I saved you from that wight,” Talia said, furrowing her brow.

He shook his head. “I meant if they hadn’t died when they did, I would have. At least I’m alive, although, with an injury that has finally crippled me.”

Talia rolled her eyes. She looked towards Gared, Elsera and Josera. “He’s lying. He can walk without the cane just fine.”

“Talia!” Asher shook his head. “It’s a tactical strategy. Make everyone believe I’m weak, and if we’re ever threatened again, we have the upper hand.” He grinned before scowling. “It does bloody hurt sometimes.”

“Be careful, if you pretend to limp too much, you might stay like that,” Josera said with a grin.

“It wouldn’t be the worst.”

“Of course, but only if you want your fighting skill to be greatly affected.”

Asher smirked with mirth in his eyes. “I like you, Josera.”

Elsera cleared her throat, leaning forward. “What of the Whitehills?”

Talia smiled. “Ebbert is the only surviving Whitehill, though, he’s a maester for the Glenmores now.” She sat back in her chair, her hand grasping at her sword. “Gryff took Ironrath from us four years ago. Asher was severely wounded. And Royland, who had betrayed us at the time, vowed that the war was not over. That we would kill every last Whitehill.”

“So we did,” Ryon said, his voice dark, his eyes clouded with past anger. “Beskha trained me for nine months, and we searched day in and day out to find everyone else. When we did, we came up with a plan.” He looked to Asher. “Beskha and I infiltrated Ironrath to kill Gryff, while Asher, Talia and Royland went after Torrhen.”

“Torrhen returned to Highpoint after Ludd’s death,” Asher began, “once I recovered from my vast injuries, we began preparing our assault for nine months. That’s when Beskha found us. Our plan worked flawlessly. And the Whitehill forces swiftly scattered, once they lost both Gryff and Torrhen.” He breathed heavily, as if the mere reminder brought back _rage_. “Some of their forces joined us, others rallied to Gwyn. But she–”

“She tried to kill me.” Talia bit at her lip. “We met to end the war, four months after we killed Torrhen. We were going to leave her alone, she was vulnerable and weak, there was no benefit to killing her. But Gwyn’s people were hungry and fearful for the future. While Torrhen was lord, he’d destroyed a quarter of the eastern grove, and their ironwood was too poor in its quality to earn them much coin. When Gwyn came to us, we were already supplying _our_ ironwood around Westeros once again. The Crown had even decided we would be the sole producer of ironwood, to ensure the quality would always be at its highest.”

Gared could see how that came about. Poor quality ironwood meant shields would crack and splinter easily, even worse if it was a ship. There was no doubt the deal made House Forrester powerful in its own right once more. Without ironwood, Westeros would collapse quickly as people would scramble to find a suitable alternative. But it was a well-known fact that other trees simply couldn’t rival the pure strength of ironwood. Houses like the Whitehills had never managed to nurture the trees. They had never been taught to, not like the Forresters had.

“For the second time in our history, everything was taken from the Whitehills,” Talia continued. “Gwyn said she wanted to help her people; came to tell us that marriage was the only way to save their lives.”

“But she _lied_! She grabbed Talia’s hair and put a dagger to her throat!” Ryon near shouted. This clearly still affected them, even now. “While Asher tried to talk her down, Talia managed to stab her in the stomach while I slashed her leg.”

“That was the day we won our war,” Asher said, his voice quiet. “The cost was so _high_ , but we lived.”

Talia smiled gently. “After that, we regained our reputation, we rebuilt Ironrath, and we reforged our alliance with the Glenmores, the Ellivers and the Brownbarrows.”

“Bloody hell.” Gared let out a laugh, hardly believing the lengths they’d been forced to go to, and yet, here they were. Despite Gwyn, despite Torrhen, despite Gryff and Ludd. The Whitehills had lost because they had always been on the wrong side. “I suppose with the Queen of the North; Forrester Ironwood will be even more valuable.”

Asher gradually grinned. “We may be a minor House, but with Sansa Stark as our Queen and Brandon Stark as the King of the Six Kingdoms, we are earning more than we ever did before. As always our ironwood is highly sort after.”

“Peace often allows for people to thrive,” Josera said, smiling faintly. “I know ironwood, but not business, you’ll have to teach me.”

Ryon snorted, earning a withering look from Asher. “That will be entertaining. Asher barely knows the numbers himself.”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Asher frowned. “Come on, now, I’m trying.”

Talia chuckled. “I’ll teach you, Josera.”

“Thank you.”

“What comes next, for all of you?” Gared asked.

He was no fool. Ironwood was only one problem. Sure, House Forrester had forces back, but those appeared to be mainly ex-Whitehill soldiers, which didn’t help matters. Although, they would have been loyal for years by now, maybe that proved something. Maybe it didn’t. Still, there was only Asher, Talia and Ryon left. They needed heirs. The Forrester line had to come first.

“I am to marry Meghan Elliver.” Asher had a true smile now, he was… in love. “The Ellivers have been a close ally to us in the last two years, which let me reconnect with Meghan. It surprised the both of us, when we fell in love, but we did. Now the wars are over, we can finally get married and seal our bond.”

“I’m glad, Asher. You deserve your happiness.”

“Thank you.”

“What about you, Talia?”

Talia shrugged. “I’m not sure. I want to learn more of our craft, and more about ironwood. I’m certain we don’t know everything. Maybe I’ll recreate our torn tapestry in my spare time. Maybe I’ll create a tapestry for you three, to honour what you have not only done for your family, but for House Forrester and all of Westeros.” She smiled. “The possibilities are endless.”

“You shouldn’t make a tapestry for us!” Elsera exclaimed. “We’re bastards for one.”

“But you prevented the worst-case scenario. We needed every advantage we could get when it came to the Night King.”

“I suppose…”

“And you, Ryon?” Gared asked with a smile.

“I’m going to become a valued warrior to this house,” Ryon said. “With Beskha and Royland at my side, I know I can become as good as Asher, or as good as you, Gared.”

“Now that is a fight I’d love to see!” Josera said, looking between Asher and Gared with a grin on his face.

“We fought a lot, when we were kids.” Gared found himself beaming at the rush of memories. “Once, Rodrik wanted to test which of us was the more accomplished fighter. At the time we were only…”

“I was fifteen, you were thirteen. We fought with wooden swords, and Rodrik had rules as long as his arm for it.” Asher stared into the distance for a moment. “‘To the death’ we shouted to each other, laughing happily in the grove.”

Gared chuckled softly. “Rodrik declared our fight a draw because we kept getting back up, and we kept matching each move. But much has changed since then, it could go either way now.”

“Let’s weigh it up,” Talia said, raising both her palms to the ceiling. “Gared was a valued squire who fought in many battles, and he fought wights for four years.” She raised her left hand. “Asher was a sellsword in Essos for four years, fought against the Whitehills, fought in the Battle of the Bastards and fought in the battle against the wights.” She lifted her right and moved both her left and right up and down until they met in the middle. “It’s impossible to tell.”

Elsera grinned. “You’re forgetting Gared has Tiff.”

Tiff chirped, hopping over to Talia, staring at her blankly.

“In a fair fight, Tiff wouldn’t count.”

Asher gave out a small laugh. “It doesn’t matter really. If we fought, all likelihood is we’ll draw again.”

Josera huffed. “Cowards.”

“Maybe.” Asher leant forward. “Now… I think we should get a drink and toast to newfound siblings.”

Talia jumped up. “I’ll grab the wine!”

Ryon stood. “I’m going to return to carving my sword.”

“What? No wine for the youngster?” Josera asked, furrowing his brow. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I’m not a drunkard like Lord Forrester here.” He laughed at Asher’s glare before darting out of the hall, followed by Talia, who was obviously on the hunt for wine.

Elsera sat back, looking comfortable. “I think this is our place, Josera.”

Josera nodded, beaming. “I agree.”

“Trust me,” Asher began, “this will always be a home to you, if you want it to be.”

“We do,” they chimed at once.

\--

Gared was taking a stroll out in the grove. He wanted to commit it to memory, since he was going back north. The trees here were nothing like the North Grove. There, they were as tall as the sky. Here, while they were tall, it still felt like a forest. The North Grove felt like more; it was their heritage. Plus, the air felt different here. It was lighter, as if there was less weighing down on it.

He sat on a dry patch in the area, pulling out the necklace he still held so dear to his heart. He couldn’t stay. Elsera and Josera deserved to be here, it should be their home, since they had never been given a chance to grow up with the family. Gared had. And he’d been through so much since losing Gregor… He had found his place in leading the charge when it came to defending the North Grove. But now that was over?

He could have a future with Jon, beyond the Wall already felt like home.

It wasn’t like he could never visit. With all that happened, his broken vows were long forgotten.

“You’re not staying, are you?”

Gared almost reached for the nearest stone at the sound of the sudden voice. An instinct he’d learnt from the Twins, to always be ready. He was better at not pulling a sword out, or throwing a knife, or shooting an arrow at someone’s head, these days. But the feeling still persisted.

Luckily, it was only Asher. He was approaching slowly, his hand at his hip. Interestingly, his cane was resting on a large rock near them. He truly didn’t need it.

“How did you guess?”

“You have that look about you.” He sat next to him. “You’re torn, but at the same time, your mind is made up.”

“Yeah…” Gared closed his eyes. “I could have something good up north. But I have all of you _here_.”

“Don’t worry about us. With your seeds, we can regrow what the Whitehills ruined. And… I’m not the only one who deserves a happy ending.”

“But–”

“Gared.” Asher placed a hand at his shoulder. “Whoever is waiting for you, go to them.”

“This will always be a home…”

“Of course it will, but people do say the heart decides where our true home lies.”

Gared couldn’t fault that logic. He already knew he was going back, but indecision was ruling him when it mattered most. “I think my heart made that choice years back, when it wasn’t even possible.”

Asher’s eyes widened a fraction. “You fell in love at the Wall.”

“Aye… I’m fairly sure all of Castle Black knew.”

“Go to him, Gared. If you love him, and he loves you, go to him.” He squeezed Gared’s shoulder. “That matters more, doesn’t it?”

“House Forrester mattered more to me once.” Gared huffed a breath. “You’re right. It’s not like I can’t visit.”

“That’s the spirit! There aren’t many who get a chance at having a happy life, don’t waste yours.”

Gared smiled, looking to Asher in earnest. “I suppose I have to take my chance with both hands and run with it.”

Asher bolted up. “Yes! You can take my best horse and ride beyond the Wall to your lover!”

Gared laughed, clutching his stomach, it was funny how passionate Asher was about this.

“It’s not funny, I’m entirely serious.”

“I know,” he gasped. As his laughs died down, he smiled. “You really believe in love, don’t you?”

“Entirely. Love can make or break many things. But it will always fill the heart with happiness, no matter what kind of love it is.” He offered a hand to Gared. “Come on, I’ll show you whatever you need to see, so you can gain enough closure to go north.”

Gared took Asher’s hand and stood, smiling. “I saw two solid broken branches on the way here, a perfect size for a good fight.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you need for closure?”

“Maybe I just need a memorable goodbye.”

A knowing look crossed Asher’s features. “Lead the way.”

Before long, the two were standing opposite each other, branches in hand. They both smirked, nodding to indicate they were ready. Asher charged Gared, which made it easy for him to dodge, twirl around and whack Asher on the back. Asher recovered quickly, turning and ducking at the same time, swinging his branch to hit Gared in the legs.

He went flying to the ground but rolled to his feet in a fluid movement before Asher could strike his chest. Gared jabbed at Asher’s chest, but was blocked by his branch. He moved forward and kicked his legs instead, which sent him stumbling enough for Gared to get a good hit on his arms. Asher didn’t drop his branch though, catching Gared by surprise as he hit against his hands.

Gared’s branch went flying, as he himself had to hop back from another hit. His branch wasn’t too far, so he swung at Asher, forcing him to step back. He twirled and with his momentum, dropped to his knees and slid over to his branch. He picked it up, turning just in time to raise his branch against Asher’s next strike, locking them in a battle of strength. They both grinned at each other.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Talia said all of a sudden.

Asher stopped his assault, backing away from Gared, still grinning. Gared pushed himself off the ground, balancing on his branch as if it was some grand staff. Talia sighed at the both of them. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen these antics before. She’d watched them as a child, plenty of times. Although, considering how young she’d been then, it was unlikely she would remember how this usually played out.

“It’s closure for Gared.” Asher threw his branch away and retrieved his cane. “What do you need to do next, brother?”

Gared’s heart nearly burst at hearing that word. Asher was grinning at him so brightly. They had all grown up together, Gared had always been part of the family in some way. Always present. He supposed it was an easy leap to make. “Talia, what is your favourite craft?”

“Textiles.”

“Teach me something?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Gared glanced away, shrugging. “I’m leaving.”

Talia’s entire expression collapsed. Her eyes filled with sorrow so suddenly. “What? Why?”

“I have someone up north. They’re important to me.”

“But you have _us_!”

“Talia,” Asher said, firm. “Gared has made his decision, you need to respect that. All he needs is closure, to say goodbye.”

“Textiles will do that, will it?” She folded her arms, not looking impressed.

“It’s something to… bring us together. With Asher, it was another fight. With you, I guess it can be anything you’re passionate about.”

Her face lit up, though the sadness was still present. “If you want to do something I really love, then let’s sing together!”

Asher raised his eyebrows. “You can’t make Gared _sing_!”

“I wouldn’t mind it actually.” He smiled, slowly. “I can’t sing to save my arse, but it can only be fun.”

“Join us, Asher!”

Asher chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright. What’re we singing?”

Talia grinned tremendously, pulling a sheet of paper from her pocket. “I call it ‘Groves in Winter’.”

They got some kind of tune and harmony going between them as Talia helped them learn the lines. Gared got the gist of the song as they ran through the words, walking back to Ironrath. It was about how life shrunk away in winter, but the groves were ever-present, still standing tall, still green and bright. Even while snow balanced carefully on the leaves.

As they got back within the walls of Ironrath, one of the smallfolk picked up a spare lute, taking a second to get into the tune of the song, but soon found their feet. Talia encouraged the smallfolk to join in as they started the song once again. The harmonies were a little off here and there, but overall it still sounded good. Even Royland joined in, surprisingly.

Ryon came running out of the keep, Beskha and Elsera following behind. Josera and Shadow appeared out of nowhere too. They crowded around Gared, Talia and Asher, all joining in and learning the lyrics quick enough. Gared picked up Ryon in a piggyback, causing the both of them to laugh and lose their footing in the song, but they found their way back.

All joined in with the music, some of the smallfolk danced as others tapped against the wooden stalls and huts to create a beat. Others had grabbed their instruments and added depth to the song, while everyone else sung, beaming. It was the single most joyous thing Gared had ever witnessed. Everyone together, no boundaries, all singing and dancing. So full of happiness. With the lyrics ringing out all around them.

About how the ironwood groves that kept them safe. About how winter couldn’t slow them down.

Despite everything that had happened, this was life, right before them.

A moment of happiness, for all to share.

\--

Gared approached Ryon, who was whittling away at some wood, sitting on the steps up to the keep. He paused to smile up at Gared, before continuing. It looked as if he was carving another one of his figures. Gared was glad to see it was still a passion of his, even now. If anyone knew how to treat ironwood with care, it was Ryon.

“What are you making?” Gared asked, smiling gently.

Ryon looked to him, his eyes darting around his face. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll make you.”

“That’s… kind.”

“I’ll miss you. Like I missed you before.” He turned his attention back to the figure. “If I make a wooden figure of you, maybe you won’t feel so far away.”

Gared frowned, he wished this process was easier, but it wasn’t. He was leaving, he had to. And preferably, he would leave today. He’d already spent three days here, he had to get back to the north, where a new part of his life could begin. If he stayed at Ironrath, someone, at some point, would work out who he truly was. He knew his beard only made him look more like his father.

It wasn’t just that either. Ironrath wasn’t home anymore. He’d spent enough time in the North Grove, with Free Folk, to understand that. He’d helped to save House Forrester in his own way, and they were _thriving_. He could go north, and he could be with Jon, and it wouldn’t cost anything, because his family was safe.

“I’ll visit.”

“It won’t be the same.”

Gared sighed, rubbing his wrists. “Nothing is now. Everything has changed.” He sent a smile Ryon’s way. “You don’t need me around.”

“Maybe we do. We have plenty of forces, but you’re a warg, a greenseer.” Ryon whittled with a little more strength than before. “We could use that.”

“I’m not here to be used. I’ve done what I’ve had to do to ensure House Forrester and every other House and every _person_ had a better chance at surviving.” He clenched his jaw, looking out to the valley in front of them. To Tiff hovering above the path, mice scuttling below her. “I did my part, and now I’ll rest.”

“Is it not selfish to come back only to leave us?”

“No… I needed to know if you were all safe. And if you weren’t, I would have cut down anyone who got in my way.”

“So, because we’re safe you decided we don’t need you. We all missed you, Gared.”

“I know. But that’s not it at all, Ryon.” He didn’t know how to explain it, not really. “I loved someone, years ago, and I found them again, up north. Those old feelings came back… They are my home now.”

Ryon looked to Gared, his frown slowly turning into a smile. “I didn’t know you were in love…” He turned back to his whittling. “It makes sense now.”

“Good.” Gared leant over, peering at the small pile of wood by Ryon. “Mind if I join you?”

“Do you know how to carve wood?”

“I dabbled… when I was your age.”

Ryon lit up. “Tell me about it.”

Gared spent the morning telling stories, of all kinds, to Ryon. He spoke of his childhood first, and how he grew up with Rodrik, Asher and Mira. Ryon – more than once – laughed for minutes on end about all the silly stories. He talked about what being a squire was like, and how it was hard and dirty work sometimes. Then, he spoke a little about battles. Not that he wanted to tell him too much, it might have been good for Ryon, but Gared understood why Norren told so many lies.

It was to hide the horrors of what war really was, to tell funny stories that brought up morale.

By the time Gared was finished with his little figure that _could_ have been modelled from Ryon (if painted) Ryon had already gotten well underway with his figure. At one point he’d run inside to get some paints and returned later with the figure’s face painted and a thick brush. He’d spent the last hour or so trying to get all the details right.

Ryon pulled the figure away from him, studying it. “I think that’s good enough.”

Gared peered at the thing. It did look a little like him. “That’s brilliant, Ryon.” He offered his own figure. “I’m a little rusty after all these years, but I tried to make it like you.”

Ryon carefully took it into his hands. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it.” He smiled down at his figure. “Do you want… well, you?”

“No. You keep it. Like you said, maybe it’ll keep me close.”

“Yeah…” He twisted his mouth. “When are you leaving?”

“Later today.”

Gared watched as the light in Ryon’s eyes faded. He nodded and stood, taking the figures and the spare bits of wood with him, going into the keep. Gared couldn’t blame him, a lot had changed over the years. But he had to go north, for the chance to be with Jon. That _mattered_. Ironrath hadn’t been a home to him since he first saw the Freys preparing their weapons at the Twins.

That was the moment his entire life changed. And he’d long come to terms with it. Talia and Ryon especially had always been close to Gared. Surely, him leaving must have felt like a knife to the throat, but it couldn’t be helped. Gared’s heart yearned for Jon, he couldn’t stop it.

He got up from the steps and headed inside. Asher had given him a room, probably in the hope that it would be permanent. It was nothing grand, but it was more than enough. He was only there to take a minute for himself. It wasn’t like he had anything to pack.

All he had to his name was Tiff, his sword, the clothes on his back, and the necklace. Although Tiff was more of her own owl than one of his possessions. Everything else he’d either crafted or found was still in the North Grove. The ritual knife was hidden, and his bow had been lain against the ironwood steps.

“So, this is it?” Elsera asked. He turned, seeing her in the doorway, arms folded. She was in a tunic and trousers, a temporary outfit but better fitting for a place like this.

“This is it…” He laughed to himself. “Can you believe it? Four years ago, this would have been a dream.”

“And now it doesn’t fit you anymore.”

“No. No, but, Jon does. I have to go to him.”

She smiled, an understanding look passing over her features. “I saw it, when you were together. All your talk of him couldn’t have prepared me for the sheer love you displayed. I thought I knew you, till then. You became… soft.”

Gared shrugged, curling his arms around himself. “Jon is… He was there at one of the worst points in my life. And it wasn’t a good time for him either. At first, it was like we were trying to forget… But we fell too quickly. He understood me… I’ve never felt like that with anyone else.”

“Will it be the same for you? So much has changed, you have changed.”

“Gods know? But I can hope. Things _have_ changed, but our feelings were born out of hard times. And Jon kissed me, that has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know, I’m not all too familiar with that kind of love.” Elsera smiled despite the lost look in her eyes. “Although, if I had to guess, I would say that means he still has feelings.”

“Gods, I hope so.” He looked all around him, sighing. “I better be going.”

“I’ll make sure everyone is at the gate. You should rest, for a minute. Your journey will be a long one.”

Gared let out a startled laugh. “No kidding.”

He stepped into the space of the room as Elsera left. He found himself staring out the window, at the ironwood grove. There was no doubt he would miss it once again. It was his home once, after all, despite all that had happened he couldn’t forget what he’d had here, years ago. But people had moved on, found new beginnings. New homes. Gared was one of those people.

By the time he made it outside, everyone was waiting for him at the gate. Asher was holding onto a chestnut horse, beaming, while the others were… looking less than happy. Elsera and Josera on the other hand seemed content. They’d known he wasn’t staying since he’d seen Jon.

Royland was the first to approach him. “I never agreed to what happened to you, Gared. Wherever it is you’re going, be safe.”

“I was where I needed to be, trust in that.”

They shook hands, smiling slightly.

“Good luck, boy.”

“Thank you.”

Elsera and Josera approached next. They both hugged him, though Josera’s hug was briefer than Elsera’s. They all grinned at each other for a second.

“I know you’ll be at home up north, Gared,” Elsera said. “It’s where you thrive.”

“You could make the Grove your home, if you like.” Josera glanced over to Shadow, who was sitting peacefully by a stall full of meat. “It’s not as if you have to protect it anymore.”

“It’ll always be a secret, one protected by this House.” Gared smiled, he’d miss them especially. Considering how much time they’d spent together. “It won’t be the same without you both.”

“But it will still be your home. This is ours.”

Elsera nodded along. “We’re all starting a new path now.”

Gared wasn’t sure what the future held, but he knew whatever it was, it would certainly be new. “We are.”

Ryon approached next, making himself look small by curling his arms around himself. “I know you’ll be happy, but I still don’t want you to go.”

“I know… But this is my choice, Ryon. You’ll understand that one day.” Gared opened his arms. “A hug for the road?”

Ryon ran forward, hugging Gared tightly. “Visit us.”

“I will.”

He stepped back and nodded to himself before allowing room for Talia. She sauntered forward with a forlorn expression on, her eyes full of gloom and misery. He knew he was hurting his family but… Well, he didn’t know how to justify the need to go. Jon was waiting for him, and out of all of them, maybe Asher was the only one who could fully understand the situation.

“I hope you’ll be happy, with whoever you fell in love with.” Talia grasped his arm, squeezing. “I hope she treats you well.” Gared had to suppress the need to correct her, less he’d be somewhat of an embarrassment. But before he could give himself away, Talia pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close, before she released him entirely. “Up north is a harsh place; promise us you’ll be safe.”

“I lived there for four years, Talia. In the middle of the Night King marching south.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ll be safe. I’m fairly sure up north is as peaceful as it can be now.”

She nodded, sighing. “Still.”

Gared shook his head, amused by her need for a promise when they knew fine well he could look after himself. “I promise.”

Asher walked forward with the horse. “This is our best beast by far. She’s a lovely ride.” He handed the reins to Gared. “Look after her, will you?”

“Of course.”

For a moment, Asher hesitated, before he walked forward and hugged Gared with all his might. He leant close to his ear. “I’ll miss you, brother. But I thank the Gods for giving you this chance.”

“Same goes to you, brother,” he whispered back. “We both get our chances. We both survived despite being sent away from home.”

Asher gave him a solid pat on the back before backing away. And if you peered close, there was clearly tears in his eyes. “Live well, Gared.”

He smiled gently before climbing up onto the horse. He whistled and Tiff came flying over, landing on his shoulder. She chirped and hooted, and from the blood around her mouth, he knew she’d just fed herself. He glanced down to his family, nodding to them.

“Iron from Ice.”

“Iron from Ice!” they all replied, smiling at the same time as their eyes spoke of sadness.

With one last look at them all, he kicked the horse softly, spurring her on to move. He rode past the gate, looking back once at everyone standing, watching him go. Shadow even gave out a low peaceful growl while Ryon waved.

When he looked forward, he knew he was leaving his past behind him. Tiff hooted once and Gared glanced to her.

“Let’s go home, girl.”

\--

By the time he got to the North Grove, it felt as if he’d been away for far too long. The journey up north this time around went without many incidents. Apart from one snow bear he had come into contact with around the Frostfangs. All he really worried about was Jon, but he had to pick up his remaining belongings before setting out to find everyone.

Gared slipped off his horse as he neared the village, tying her to a tree. He walked further in, about to duck into his hut, when he noticed movement. It could have been an animal who wandered in… He grasped the hilt of his sword, following the movement.

“I knew you would come back here,” Sylvi said, stepping into view.

“You can add predictable to the list of things I am.” He released his grip, relaxing his posture.

“You should stay.” She grinned. “I brought some Free Folk here, temporarily. Some don’t have a clan to go home to.”

“That’s good.” He was about to say more but was immediately distracted by Jon approaching from behind Sylvi. He was looking as beautiful as ever, his hair neat and perfect. Ghost padded along at his side, and Tiff flew off Gared’s shoulder, teasing Ghost and pulling him away from them. They disappeared into the grove.

Sylvi smirked. “I’ll leave you to it.” She ran off along with Ghost and Tiff.

“You’ve made your decision?” Jon asked, sheepish. He hung his head, as if he was too scared to look Gared in the eye.

He couldn’t have that. He’d already told Jon this was home, a few days at Ironrath wouldn’t change that. Not when it came to him. Not now. He moved forward, cupping Jon’s face, gazing at him with so much _love_. Because he still loved him. He did. And Jon certainly saw what he needed to see as he pulled Gared into a bruising kiss.

Gared pressed into Jon, squeezing his eyes shut, needing this more than anything. Jon slowly wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling them ever closer. Gared deepened the kiss slowly, letting the passion build and flow between them. It was simply wonderful, as he slowly explored his mouth, relearning how it all felt against his tongue.

Jon slowly pulled back, but by no further than an inch. “You’re really staying?”

Gared smoothed his thumbs over Jon’s cheekbones, leaving a small kiss on his nose. “Of course, I always was.”

“I’m… I thought seeing Ironrath again might–”

“Jon, they may be my family… But they’re not _you_.”

“Family…?” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

The truth… It was such a messy thing. But Gared was no Tuttle, nor would he ever have the name Forrester. He was a Snow, he just so happened to have ended up with the Tuttle’s. “There’s so much I have to tell you.”

“So, tell me.”

He took a breath. Even now, it was still unbelievable. “I am Lord Gregor’s son.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” He glanced away, gesturing to his hut. “I have a lot to explain. We should be warm for it.”

Once inside, he pulled his gloves off and immediately started a fire. Ironwood may have been hard to burn, but it was always said Forresters _had a way_. Really, it was just knowing the right angle and the right amount of ironwood. Of course, it didn’t hurt to have Forrester blood either, for some reason, it made it easier to burn.

They sat on the bed. Much more comfortable than the one chair he had. Jon looked to him with understanding eyes, while he pulled off his gloves, casting them aside. Gared supposed finding out you weren’t a bastard was on par with finding out you were one. That day… had been a difficult one.

“The weirwoods… whisper to those who have Forrester blood.”

Jon stared for a long moment. “The Gods…?”

“I don’t know…” He scoffed, thinking of how absurd it still was. “You know how I grew up with the Forrester children?”

“Yeah?”

“One of the games we used to play involved daring each other to sit by the weirwood in the grove near Ironrath. We could all hear them whisper, but we didn’t dare speak about it. One day, even though the whispers were quiet, I knew they had said my name. So, I told Gregor.” He smiled bitterly, twisting his mouth. “He said I was merely scared of them, and that my own fear made me hear the voice… But he knew who I was, and he knew that the whispers were real. Once I was north of the Wall, I could truly hear them, for the first time.”

“What did they say…?”

“They told me it was an injustice that my true origin had been kept secret. Forresters have gained their respect by being able to hear them. They told me out of courtesy, explaining that my mother was indeed my mother, but my father was Gregor. My birth had been important to them.”

“How do you know they tell the truth?” Jon furrowed his brow. “They could be lying to you, Gared.”

“Have you ever heard a weirwood whisper? Because the Free Folk haven’t, and no one I’ve ever known who wasn’t a Forrester has.”

“No…”

“I trust in them. They have never led me wrong.” He rubbed the palm of his hand. “They’ve told me many things. About Forrester history, about what used to exist. The whispers have seen everything, and they never liked the North being controlled. Whether they’re the Gods, or something like the Children of the Forest, doesn’t matter. They believe in the truth, in the North, in the lands beyond the Wall. They wouldn’t lie.”

Jon grasped Gared’s hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “I’m sorry for suggesting that. I only want you to be sure, and the whispers… they sound impossible.”

“But they’re not.” He swallowed, thickly. There was still _so much_. “I’m a greenseer and a warg.”

“Tiff… She’s your animal.”

“Aye. She’s been loyal to me, for many years.”

“And when you said news travels fast in dreams…? What did you see?”

Gared sighed, looking to Jon. He didn’t really want to bring up traumatic memories for him. “Are you sure you want to hear that?”

“Yes.”

“I saw you in the Throne room. Ash raining down… The Iron Throne alight, burning like a torch…” He watched Jon carefully, seeing a pained expression. “Do you want me to stop?”

“You can continue.” Jon breathed a shaky breath. “I want you to.”

“I saw the Targaryen sigil bathed in blood. I knew what you would do from that dream alone.” He turned his hand in Jon’s, entwining their fingers and squeezing. “I had other dreams about Daenerys Targaryen too. Of ice and fire, of the dead. And of the Red Keep crumbling, and mass graves.”

“You knew… all that would happen?”

“I suppose it was my abilities telling me it was time to journey south.” He scoffed, suddenly realising. “I didn’t want to go south right away, not until the conflict had come to a close. But by the time we were making our way to Ironrath, there you were.”

Jon shifted closer. “Thank the Gods it worked out that way. To have you close again means more than I could ever say.”

Gared placed his hand at Jon’s cheek, smiling softly. He shifted closer as Jon settled his hands at Gared’s waist. They didn’t need to speak to know where this was going. They were moving as one, steady and calm, like they always were, at first. They both leant forward, pressing their lips delicately together. Gared’s eyes collapsed shut as he once again felt the gentle desire to have Jon, to hold him, to love him, to make love to him.

But the slowness of it ceased the second Jon skimmed his tongue over the seam of Gared’s lips. He opened up to him, allowing Jon to explore, his hot tongue claiming his mouth with each flick, each touch. Their tongues traced one another beautifully, and Jon sucked lightly, at first, building up force till he pulled a moan from Gared.

He was helpless to Jon’s assault, groaning as he pressed into him. Gared slid his hands to his shoulders, lying back and pulling Jon with him. He went easily, settling between Gared’s legs, slowly pulling back, nipping at Gared’s bottom lip, pulling it in, sucking gently yet biting deliciously. Gared couldn’t help but groan roughly, and _Gods_ , was Gared glad Jon remembered how to get him going.

He left his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth, trailing small kisses and bites down along his jaw, nuzzling his neck as he licked and teased the skin. Gared relished in the feeling, scraping his nails up the base of Jon’s neck, curling a hand in his hair, pulling oh so gently. Jon shuddered, groaning against his neck, pressing into him. Their hardening cocks coming together, clear through the layers of fabrics.

Jon moved up to Gared’s ear, his breath hot, tantalising, as he scraped his teeth over his earlobe. “I want you to bed me… I want you to fuck me, make me go wild like all the times before, like we could die tomorrow. I want to feel it all,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Gared growled, smirking as he flipped them, straddling Jon’s hips in one fluid motion. Jon grinned up at him, his eyes full of lust, his pupils blown wide, dark and wanting. He dove down, claiming those lush lips once more, moaning into it as Jon bucked his hips. “We’re wearing far too much,” he breathed between hot kisses.

Jon tugged at one of the straps keeping Gared’s clothes together. “That’s easily solved.”

They pulled at the straps that kept their clothes together, undoing them methodically, manoeuvring around each piece of furs. It was a slow harmony of removing the other’s clothes, shucking each layer off and casting it aside. Once they were naked, Gared ran his hand down Jon’s chest, his eyes trailing down to his now beautifully hard cock.

“I missed how gorgeous you are.” Gared locked eyes with Jon, moving down to lick up his shaft. Jon moaned, writhing beneath him. He kissed each hip sweetly, worshiping his skin. “I missed _this_.”

Jon reached up, his hand settling in Gared’s hair. “You’re not the only one…” He gazed at him for a long second, his eyes drifting down his body before settling back on his face. “Kiss me, Gared.”

He leant forward, leaving a sweet kiss on his nipple. At Jon’s whine, Gared smirked. “You never said where.”

“You’re in–”

Gared teased one nipple with his tongue, while rolling the other between his fingers. Jon’s words had died in his throat, replaced by a breathy moan. His nipples had always been particularly sensitive, something Gared had taken advantage of in the past, and would do again. He lightly scraped his teeth over one, sucking gently as Jon arched his back. He moved onto the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, loving the sounds that escaped Jon’s lips.

Those sounds filled the hut, and it was like music to his ears. After all, they had never been given the freedom to be loud in Castle Black, this was new territory in that respect. To truly hear Jon… was delightful.

Gared kissed his sternum, pressing soft kisses down his stomach. Jon whined, and Gared knew what he wanted, but first, he had to get him all worked up. He buried his face into the coarse curls, breathing in his scent, moving to nuzzle his cock. He kissed the head softly, wrapping his lips around, sucking tenderly.

“ _Gared_ …” Jon breathed in a moan. “Fuck me, now, _please_.”

He smirked, raising his head. “This is like our first time.” He skimmed his hand down Jon’s face, curling his fingers into his hair. “You… begging me just as I’m beginning to explore you.”

Jon glared, although half-heartedly. It’s effects less impactful when his eyes were so full of lust. “It’s been four fucking years since you’ve been in me, Gared, I’ll beg all day long if I need to.” He leant up, capturing Gared’s lips in a quick kiss. “But I don’t want to waste that time, when you can be in me, moving sweet and slow, building up until you pound me into this bed. Till I come so hard I’ll shout.” He kissed him again, though this time it was dirtier, like a promise. “Then… once we’ve recovered, we’ll do it all over again.”

Gared whimpered, a small moan escaping him. “ _Gods_ , Jon… _Yes_.”

Jon lay back, extending his hand above him. “Your fingers…?”

Gared placed his wrist in Jon’s hand. He closed his fingers around it, guiding his hand to his mouth, slowly wrapping his tongue around his middle finger. Gared tried to focus on Jon’s eyes, near black with lust, eyesight locked. He watched each finger disappear into Jon’s mouth as his tongue lathered them up. His eyes fluttered shut as Jon sucked hard on his ring finger, wetting it up beautifully.

Once Jon deemed them slick enough, Gared had to pull his brain into some kind of functioning order. This… all of this was a dream; he could hardly believe he was going to get Jon again. But he was.

He circled the rim with the tip of his finger, enjoying the way Jon gasped so quietly. Gradually, he pushed his finger in, the warmth of Jon was a welcome comfort. He twisted and hooked, stretching each time he pulled his finger back and forth. Jon let out the most beautiful groans, and Gared managed to draw a long moan from him as he dipped his second finger in. He kept hooking his fingers in just the right way, till Jon let out a strangled whimper turned groan as he hit his prostate again and again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jon gasped. “Fucking hell, Gared.”

Gared smiled as he added a third finger, stretching Jon as much as he could, twisting in earnest. He watched his fingers disappear inside, so simply, so easily. It only made the desire bubbling in his gut stronger. “You ready?”

Jon rolled his hips, as if to prove a point, locking Gared in a powerful gaze. “Gods, yes.”

Gared licked up the palm of his other hand, still thrusting his fingers inside Jon. He slicked up his cock quickly yet thoroughly, withdrawing his fingers only to push into Jon a second later. As Jon had asked for, he moved slowly, gently and sweetly at first. Carefully watching the way Jon sunk into the pleasure of it, groaning with each thrust.

He leant down, kissing Jon deeply as he set the leisurely pace. His movements creating a rhythm Jon began to match as he rolled his hips. Gared had missed this _so much_ , the way they came together so flawlessly, knowing what the other needed, after so many years too. While Jon loved building up to hard and fast fucking, Gared loved being told what to do. It created the perfect balance between them, letting them be in sync.

Jon slid his hands up Gared’s back, scraping slightly. “Gods, Gared, _harder_.”

Gared whimpered, feeling all his breath rush out from his lungs. Fuck… He pulled back, slamming into Jon with as much force as he knew he could take. Jon gave out a shout, groaning as Gared brushed against his prostate on the way out, digging his nails into his back. Gared moaned, at the feeling, at the sight of Jon looking so damn pretty like this.

“Fuck yes. Yes,” Jon breathed, clinging onto Gared as he thrust in again, just the right way, just at the right angle. Jon near screamed with it, his shout was so long drawn out. “Like that, fuck, _like that_.”

Gared smirked, proud of himself for satisfying Jon in the way he wanted. He kept up his pace, leaning down to kiss Jon sweetly as he snapped his hips in a near brutal thrust. Deep, fast and dirty. Yet perfect for Jon, his shouts and groans and strangled praises lighting up Gared’s world as he too moaned and groaned with the pleasure of it.

“Gorgeous,” Gared panted, staring down at Jon who was struggling to keep his eyes open and focused on Gared. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Me?” Jon eked out, between thrusts, his voice strangled and rough from his shouting. “Look, at you, stunning, perfect.” He clawed at Gared’s back, as if he was struggling to hold on. “Harder, please?”

Gared dipped down, kissing the corner of Jon’s mouth. “You sure?”

“Very.”

Well, he couldn’t say no to that. He pulled back, prepared to go in with all the strength he had. “You close?”

Jon whined, nodding. “Please, _move_!”

Gared huffed a laugh before pounding Jon into the bed so hard it creaked. His nails dug into Gared’s back brutally, eyes closed tight with pleasure. He thrust once, twice more at that pace, till their hips jerked as they came at once. A shout burst from Jon, hot spurts of white spilling out onto his stomach. While Gared groaned out Jon’s name, one look at his face nearly had him blanking out, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He pulled out and collapsed down, heaving in breaths as he shuddered and gasped. He focused on Jon’s chest, rising and falling rapidly. He relished in the feeling, something he had never felt so intensely since he’d been with Jon, all those years ago. He hadn’t quite believed it back then, that Jon could have been his one… But now, now he did. For two people to come together in a difficult time, only to be torn apart by circumstance, and at the end of it all, finding themselves back together…

It had to be fate, didn’t it? Perhaps the Gods favoured them.

As he fully came back to himself, he rolled over and grabbed a fur cloth from beneath the bed. He faced Jon, holding up the cloth. “Can I clean you up?”

Jon glanced to Gared, smiling. “Yeah.”

He tenderly wiped up the mess, smiling softly at Jon as he stared back, looking blissful. Once he was all cleaned up, he threw the fur cloth to the floor and curled up next to Jon, pulling the furs over them.

Jon wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, as Gared pillowed his head on his chest. It was warming, on the bed of furs, with the fire crackling near them. He closed his eyes, content with it all. It truly felt as if they could start a whole new part of their lives.

“Gared…?” Jon whispered, sounding half asleep.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Gared tilted his head, kissing Jon’s chest. “Yes. This is all I could have wished for, Jon. Please… believe me.”

Jon rubbed his hand up Gared’s back, settling it in his hair. “I do, believe you. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m here.” He raised his head, staring into his eyes. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Never again.”

“Okay… Okay.” Jon let out a small whimpering noise, and all Gared could do was wrap him up in his arms, trying to give him as much comfort as he could.

“Not leaving you.” He kissed his cheek delicately. “And I’ll tell you that for as long as you need me to.”

Jon sniffled and Gared peered at him closely, finding tears at his eyes. He brushed them away with the pads of his thumbs, tucking Jon’s head under his chin, holding him. It took some time, but he slowly drifted off to sleep as he cried softly. They didn’t quite have peace yet, but it would come. They were together now, when it mattered most. And Jon, he needed to find his way back to happiness, after being shrouded by the darkness that lived in them all.

That day would come. For now, Gared held him.

\--

Gared lined up his shot. A deer, in his sights. It would be enough to feed all who stayed in the North Grove for a few days. He let the arrow go, and as it lodged itself in the deer’s throat, the animal fell down squealing. He approached quickly, pushing the arrow deeper to give it a quick death. There was no reason to make it suffer.

“I never knew you were such a perfect shot,” Jon said, coming up behind Gared with the sledge.

He smiled, placing his bow back across his chest. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I suppose you have.” Jon gestured to the deer. “The rabbits and now this? We’ll be fed for a week.”

Gared shook his head, hoisting the deer onto the sledge. Jon helped, throwing the dead rabbits onto the sledge as well. They were well on their way. With the flowers from the Grove, they could make some nice meals indeed. Better than what he had dealt with in the past.

“Ghost did most of the work to catch the last rabbit,” he pointed out as they secured the carcases.

“He did.” Jon turned as Ghost came running up to them, seemingly growling in agreement. He crouched by him, stroking Ghost intently. “What a clever boy.”

Gared grinned, watching the display. “Come on. We have to get back.”

As Jon stood, Gared kissed his cheek. They both beamed at each other, while Ghost padded ahead of them. They took up the straps of the sledge and pulled it back through the forest. The North Grove only had one entrance, so they carefully navigated around the ice pond and headed through the cave. The journey would take quite a while, so, they kept a leisurely pace.

“You know I’m a really Targaryen, right?” Jon said, all of a sudden.

Gared stopped, looking to Jon. “I gathered… But I think you know you’ll always be a Stark, you were raised that way, after all.”

They started walking again as Jon hummed. “Tormund said I have the true north in me, _this_ north.”

“It’s clear you do. With how easily you’ve settled.” Gared breathed in the crisp air around them. “The First Forresters lived in these lands. It’s not beyond reason that this north is part of all us Northmen.”

“Did you ever believe this could be home?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

“And now it is.” The North Grove had been a wonderful place to live, and while these lands were harsher than south of the Wall, it wasn’t too bad at all. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they arrived in the village. Ghost wandered off as they took the sledge up into the grand ironwood tree. Once inside, they headed down a couple levels and into the room they kept copious amounts of ice in. It didn’t melt as they only added more as time went on, allowing for a safe place to store their meat.

The two got to work, but after a few minutes, Jon asked, “Why does Sylvi look torn between killing you and being friends with you?”

Gared pulled the deer to one side, staring at it for a long while. “We _were_ friends, once.”

“What happened?”

“I killed Cotter, her brother.” He closed his eyes, it still pained him, every day.

Jon sucked in a breath. “What…?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If Cotter was Free Folk, how did he end up at Castle Black?”

“He was caught stealing south of the Wall.” Gared shrugged, covering the deer with some ice. “Passed himself off as a local and got sent there.” He folded his arms. “We became closer when we were looking for the North Grove. Especially after we lost Finn.”

Jon sighed, sounding unsurprised. “How did you lose him?”

“Wights.” Gared faced Jon now. “Elsera was weak when we arrived. Her blood magic had taken its toll. Cotter was dying. I had a choice, let Elsera use his still beating heart to strengthen her. Or feed Cotter nightshade and let him die peacefully.” He twisted his mouth, glancing away. “I told you, I’m not the man you loved.”

“So, you used Cotter’s heart in defence of the Grove?”

“Yes.”

“And Sylvi has never forgiven you…”

“I gave her brother a painful death. I deserve her hatred. If she ever forgives me, I’ll be grateful.”

“Gared…” Jon thinned his lips. “I can only imagine you did what you needed to do to protect the Grove.”

“I’d like to believe that.” He sighed, approaching Jon, who was now busying himself with the rabbits. “But it’s not true. There were other ways. Especially after we started taking in Free Folk.”

“How many did you protect?”

“A lot more than left. They lost people who decided to fight with us.”

Jon turned to him, sighing. “The odds were stacked against you.”

“Aye. We survived out of sheer luck.”

“But your skill is immense.”

Gared chuckled softly. Maybe that was true, but a lot had happened over the years. The Grove had seen many battles, the wights had always been bold. His skill was high, but that wasn’t the sole reason to how he survived. “I’ve also been saved more times than I could count.”

“We all have in battles, but don’t put down your skill.” Jon grasped Gared’s arm, looking at him earnestly. “I saw it today.”

He smiled. “I guess my bow work is impeccable these days.”

“I’ve never seen aim as precise nor as quick as yours.”

“I had to be smart against the wights.”

“I understand that well.” Jon squeezed his arm. “Now, what else can you show me?”

Gared smirked. “You’ll see.”

\--

“Oh… You have brought us Jon Snow…”

Gared bowed his head to the weirwood tree. They were deep in the North Grove, where one weirwood was surrounded by large ironwood trees. It was easier to get to than the one just outside the Grove. And this one stood near to where the first Forrester had harvested ironwood for the first time.

“Is this where you listen to them?” Jon asked as they sat on the log Gared had once placed in front of the weirwood.

“Aye.” He turned his attention to the whispers, which sounded more like an echo of voices. “He was sceptical of your existence.”

“ _Ah_. Then you should know… You should know, Jon Snow died once. He was brought back, but he did die.”

Gared felt his heart pang. Jon… had been dead? Perhaps that explained his dream about crows swarming a direwolf. He hadn’t understood that then, beyond knowing crows were a symbol of death. “They… told me you died.”

Jon stayed very still and very quiet for a moment. Slowly, he looked to the tree with hard eyes. “I was going to tell you that in my own time.”

The whispers came together, making a buzzing type of sound. “We apologise… We did not know it would bring Jon Snow distress.”

Gared was glad the whispers knew when they were wrong. “They apologised.”

Jon nodded. “It was a mutiny at Castle Black. I was killed by my own men for doing what I believed to be right. When I was resurrected, I was no longer bound by my vows. That’s why I went south.”

“I didn’t know the specifics of how you ended up south, only that you did.” He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “Fuck, I can’t believe you died.”

His dream made complete sense too. Crows, a direwolf.

“Your dreams didn’t say?”

“Cryptically they did, but I didn’t know until now what it meant.” He curled his fingers around Jon’s wrist. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It allowed me to be where I was needed.”

“Gared,” the whispers uttered, “we are glad you have found your love. It was meant to be.”

That statement meant a great deal, the fact they were glad was important. “The whispers said we were meant to be.”

Jon inched closer to Gared, snuggling into his side. “That’s... Why?”

“Two people so separate from each other, finding one another. So similar in their paths, yet so different. Losing the connection they had built, the love. Yet becoming stronger when they reunite in the lands they were always meant to live in.” The whispers sounded proud, as if they were glad to tell this tale.

“Our story, as two people.” Gared leant his head on Jon’s shoulder. “They think we’re stronger now we have reunited.”

“At the end of it all… we ended up in the same place.”

“Yes.”

“Somewhere we both love.”

“Yes.”

“And the whispers know that.” Jon entwined his fingers with Gared’s, holding his hand gently. “They must be the Gods.”

Gared closed his eyes and breathed in the wonderful air of the Grove. The whispers stayed silent, choosing to say nothing at all. Whatever they were, revealing themselves was not an option. Gared admired them for that. He peacefully sank into Jon’s warmth as they sat there, while the whispers watched on.

\--

“What are you doing?” Sylvi asked, standing before Gared, her arms folded.

Gared glanced up from his activity. He was sewing together some furs, to create a toy of sorts. A simple owl this time. He’d been taught by a few Free Folk that used to stay here, the technique was old and effective. It used scraps of furs that couldn’t be sewn into clothing. He was just about ready to stuff it and sew it up.

“Making a toy,” he replied, continuing his stitch.

“Why?” She sat next to him. They were at the steps to the large ironwood tree, a nice place to sit.

“I wanted to… It’s relaxing.”

“My mother apparently used to make toys like that. She made a moon for me, before she left me to die...”

Gared frowned, thinking back. “Did you ever find out what happened to her?”

“She’s dead, for all I know.” Sylvi shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“I’m sorry…” He sighed, placing the toy in his lap. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know you are. But it won’t change what you did.” She scoffed, looking to him with cold eyes. “I know you would do it all over again.”

“I would… But only because if I hadn’t, we may have failed before we had a chance.”

“It’s difficult. We can be friends, Gared. But it will never be the same, I will never trust you the way I did before.

“I know…”

Sylvi sighed. “I will admit, you do seem to belong here now.”

Gared chuckled softly, picking up his toy. “Once the North Grove no longer required protection, I was finally free to make a choice again. And I chose here.”

“It suits you. This grove connects you to your family, if anyone belongs here, it’s you.”

“It would be lonely if the rest of you weren’t here.”

Sylvi stood. “Then thank me for bringing them here.”

He smiled gradually. “Thank you.”

She shook her head, smiling faintly, and wandered off. Gared immediately went back to stitching up his toy. He hadn’t gotten much time alone in the last week, settling back into the North Grove with so many new people had been strange. But he was getting used to it. Having Jon at his side again certainly helped. It was like a dream, being so free with so many likeminded people.

He finished up his toy by stuffing some spare furs into it and closing up the hole. A little owl stared back at him, with small bones acting as eyes. It looked nothing like Tiff, but it bared some resemblance to an owl. He laid it down and his loyal friend landed by him, as if merely thinking of her drew her to him.

Tiff chirped, pecking at the toy.

“It’s an owl, like you.” Gared smiled as Tiff stared at the toy before flying off. She could be a strange creature sometimes, only appearing when something interesting was happening, or when Gared called her. Any other time she was sitting happily in an ironwood tree.

He hadn’t quite noticed how late it had gotten. The sky was darkening, even within the Grove. People had been walking around the main area, and he’d said the odd ‘hello’ in reply. But he hadn’t realised why till he had finished the owl. So, he got up, carrying his toy, and made his way into the largest hut of all. The one they used for cooking and dining. As he got in, he noticed the fire burning with a bright red, as Ensor, a welcome cook, seemed to be making a broth.

He spotted Jon immediately, sitting by him and placing the owl down. Tormund, who was sitting across the table, stared long and hard at the toy. Sylvi was also at the table, in a heated yet deep conversation with another young woman, called Twyla.

“I’m going to say it first,” Jon said, pointing to the toy, “why?”

Gared shrugged, stroking his thumb over the bone eyes. “I was bored and wanted to home in on my skill.”

“What _is_ that?” Tormund asked, his brow furrowed.

“An owl.”

“Ah, like your animal.”

“Aye.”

“Your Tiff is a beauty; your toy is not.”

Gared chuckled. He knew his toy did not represent owls well, but at least Tormund was complimenting and insulting at the same time. “It’s not meant to be pretty.”

“All things should be pretty.”

Jon shook his head, smoothing his hand across Gared’s back. “I’m sure you couldn’t make a toy as good as that, Tormund.”

Tormund practically gasped at the statement. “You might be right, but it wouldn’t be as horrifying.” He scowled at the toy. “Bones for eyes is not toy like.”

Gared leant forward, placing his head on his hands. “What would you suggest?”

“Oh… Uh. A rock?”

“I can’t stitch that into a toy like this.”

“Leaves?”

Gared merely rolled his eyes in response.

“Seashells?”

“We don’t live on the coast.”

Tormund thinned his lips, sighing in what sounded like frustration. “Twigs?”

Gared hummed, mulling that over. “I’ll bear that in mind for next time.”

Dinner was swiftly declared ready, allowing everyone to grab a bowl and get their share. By the time Gared got back to his seat, Tormund was sitting with his half full bowl in front of him and the toy in his hands. When Jon sat next to him, he immediately huffed an amused breath. It was as if he knew Tormund would do such a thing.

“You stitch well,” he said, examining the owl.

Gared spooned some stew into his mouth, thinking over a reply. “I was taught several methods to be the most effective.”

“Shame your clothes aren’t sewn together as well as this.”

“I didn’t make my garments.” He glanced down, staring into his stew. “The warriors did.”

Sylvi leant forward, peering at Gared. “You made the undead thralls make clothes?”

“It was Elsera’s doing, not mine. I only controlled them when it came to the battles.”

“Thralls?” Tormund questioned. “You had an undead army?”

Gared regretted bringing it up, the warriors had been a necessary evil, but it was best to be honest. Otherwise, he’d be lying for the sake of lying. “Dying Free Folk that were with us offered themselves to be part of our army. Before we made a deal with several clans, and before I began living here, Elsera would control Free Folk against their will.”

Tormund clenched his jaw. “I thought your friend was a good person. She didn’t seem to be against us.”

“Elsera and Josera were different years back, didn’t trust Free Folk…” Gared sighed, poking at his stew. “I convinced them there was another way, and there was.”

“In the end, defending the Grove was all that mattered,” Sylvi murmured, sounding bitter. “Right, Gared? Because if you hadn’t, who knows what the Night King could have achieved.”

“I’m sensing lingering tensions,” Tormund said, eyeing Sylvi and Gared. “Let’s play a game instead.”

Jon, who had been eating merrily, perked up. “What kind of game?”

“A game of catch that ends the moment the toy is touched by Gared.”

“Oh, like piggy in the middle,” Gared said, grinning now.

Tormund lit up. “That’s a good name for it!” He threw the owl over to Twyla. “Will you play?”

Twyla smiled down at the toy. “I have things to do.” She threw it back to Tormund and stood. “Have fun with your game.”

“I’ll play,” Sylvi said, rolling up her plait into a bun. “But we should finish eating first, then go outside.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

They finished eating quickly enough and made their way to a clearing. Before Gared could even get his footing, Tormund had already thrown the toy over to Sylvi. He did his best to run over to her, but on his way, the toy went flying over his head to Jon. As he went to turn, he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste.

Tormund laughed. “You’ll have to try better than tha–” The toy went flying into his face, and for a second, Gared glanced to a beaming Jon.

The game went back and forth like that. Mostly with Jon trying to mess it all up by catching Tormund off guard. Sylvi seemed to be enjoying it especially. It was the most he’d seen her smile while he was around. Perhaps something like this could help mend the rift between them. He did miss her friendship. Those days spent together, trying to find the very Grove they were standing in now, had some treasured moments. Even though Cotter had been dying before them.

The toy went flying by Gared again, and as he tried to reach for it, he stumbled towards Jon. He ended up inches away, so Jon reached his arm up high above his head. He held the toy in a strong grip, and with Gared being half a head shorter, even jumping couldn’t help him. He laughed, as Jon grinned at him, all carefree and happy.

Sylvi raised her hand. “Throw it over!”

Jon frowned minutely. “Gared will get it! We’re too close.”

“Stand back and don’t ruin the game!” Tormund shouted.

Gared rolled his eyes, tackling Jon and pulling him to the ground. At the sound of Jon laughing, he knew he hadn’t hurt him. He swiftly grabbed the toy and whistled. Tormund came running at him, so he rolled out of the way, just in time to hold the toy high enough. Tiff swooped down from the trees and grabbed the toy right out of his hands. She went flying off with it before Tormund or Sylvi could do anything about it.

Jon picked himself off the ground, chuckling away. “That was one way to end that game.”

Gared smiled, walking over to Jon. He helped brush the thick of the snow off his clothes, placing his fingers around his wrist after. “You played well.”

“I used to play that kind of game a lot when I was a child.” He pushed his hair back behind his ears. “I’d hope I play well.”

Tormund, who appeared to be staring at them, grinned. “We should play again, but Gared can’t cheat next time.”

“Why not?” Sylvi asked, arms crossed. “He played fairly and got an advantage on Jon. That’s not cheating.”

“Maybe not, but Tiff was.”

Gared shook his head. “You’ll just have to try harder next time.”

Tormund narrowed his eyes. “Oh, we will.”

“This will be interesting,” Jon breathed out, a smile never leaving his face.

\--

Gared was… He was happy. These past weeks had been a gift. Just _being_ in the North Grove was glorious, without the fighting, without all the stresses of finding out his abilities and his own history. Being with the Free Folk, free himself. With the one person he never thought he’d see again, never mind seeing him alive and healthy. It was all a dream come true.

He was walking with Jon, through the Grove. It was a bright day, the light reflected off the snow and the tiny crystals of snowflakes shined back. Wonderful to see, and even better to walk through. They were loosely holding hands, talking about whatever came to mind. It was easy, peaceful.

“When I saw you again, I didn’t know what to feel,” Jon said, looking to Gared as they kept strolling. “I hadn’t thought you could be alive.”

“And now, what do you feel?”

Gared could feel Jon’s smile without needing to look. But when he did look, he saw a Jon who was uplifted, smiling with his eyes, bashful and happy. And it was the most wonderful thing. He had never seen Jon in such high spirits, not even when they were together at Castle Black. Because even though he smiled back then, there was still a weight on him. Now he was free, that weight was gone, and he truly looked happy. Gared couldn’t have wished for more.

“I feel…” Jon stopped, turning to Gared. He took both his hands now, still beaming. “I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.”

Gared grinned, breathing out with all the happiness he could muster. “Me too. Every day I fall more in love with you than I ever was before.”

Jon tugged Gared into a warming hug. He leaned into Jon’s warmth, the safest place there was. They could kiss and sleep together, but nothing would ever be more intimate than their hugs. Jon turned his head, kissing his neck sweetly, pulling back slightly to kiss his cheek, then finding his lips, moving in their hold. Gared slid his hand up to Jon’s neck, letting the kiss last, letting them say what they wanted without speaking at all.

Jon pressed one last soft lingering kiss to Gared’s lips before withdrawing an inch. “I love you.”

Gared smiled, curling his hand in Jon’s hair, gazing at him deeply. “I love you too.”

With smiles firm on their faces, they began walking again, holding hands once more. They looped back around to the main clearing, where a few people were crowded around a fire, all sitting on logs that were usually situated on the edges of the clearing. Perhaps this could be a new social area for them. Tormund had gained everyone’s attention, leaning slightly forward as he told his story to confused and enthusiastic faces.

Tormund stopped mid-sentence as he spotted them. “Hey! Come join us!”

Jon tugged Gared’s hand. “You want to?”

“Might as well.”

Luckily, there was plenty of space to sit, and once they did, Tormund smiled at them. Gared noticed Sylvi was there, sharpening her spear. Also present were some of the more vocal and most friendly of the people staying in the Grove. It was nice, to have such a strong community after so little time. It was nothing like the Free Folk that had stayed with them before, they were always going to leave. Perhaps, these people would stay.

“Okay, as I was saying,” Tormund began, “not only did I have to kill the boar by strangling it, I had to skin it with my _teeth_ , so I could cook it slightly before my fire burnt out.” At the silence, he chuckled. “I’m not joking around. It’s true!”

“You’re a storyteller, Tormund. I’d eat my own foot before I’d believe that!” Badrick bellowed, causing laughter to ripple throughout the group. Tormund merely rolled his eyes, huffing.

Gared rubbed his hands together, smiling slowly. He knew what he was about to say would rock the group. “I once used the bones of wights to make a broth.” The chatter instantly died, making the scene seem rather eerie with the snow blowing around them.

“You… What?” Sylvi said, voice haunted. The scraping of her spear stopped as she furrowed her brow, staring at Gared.

“We were hungry and had been pinned down for a few days. We had no choice, especially with children to feed. So, we took a bunch of burnt wight bones and cooked them down. We flavoured it with flowers.”

“That’s… crazier than anything _I’ve_ ever done,” Tormund murmured. “Wight bones are rotten to the core!”

Gared shrugged, it actually hadn’t been the worst he’d ever had. “Anything was better than starving to death.”

“He has a point.” Jon leaned into Gared, knocking their shoulders together. “It does sound horrific, though.”

“Desperation is desperation.”

“We’ve all done weird things to survive,” Ensor stated. “I’ve eaten a deer’s liver raw before.”

“Why the liver?” Sylvi asked, going back to her spear. “Wouldn’t the heart make more sense?”

“Easier to eat the liver, I suppose.”

“Ugh, enough about food.” Twyla gestured to Tormund. “Tell us a real story, something true this time, please.”

Tormund stroked his beard for a second, smirking slightly. Though that expression melted away as his eyes became soft, like he was remembering something beautiful. “I was a boy… And my father was teaching me how to use an axe. Which was strange for my father, because he liked to complain, about everything. He’d complain about the weather, the trees, the food, his own children sometimes.” He smiled, his eyebrows jumping up. “But that day with the axe… He taught me how to throw it, how to give a good swing, how to strike a tree at the right angle. I killed my first deer then, bringing it home for everyone to prepare for dinner. I truly got to know my father all because of an axe.” He stared wistfully into the distance. “One of the best days of my life.”

“That’s sweet,” Twyla said. “I’m glad you had that.”

Ensor stared at Tormund for a long second. “Did the deer taste good?”

“Absolutely!”

Badrick was smiling now too, looking completely taken away by the story. “Do you have another true tale to tell?”

“Not today.” Tormund glanced to Jon, smirking once again. He looked back to Badrick. “I do have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Are we going to address the mammoth in the forest?”

“What mammoth?” Luella piped up. Gared hadn’t gotten to know her much, but from what he did know, she liked a juicy story. And if they were going to be talking about mammoths in forests, then it must have been interesting.

“Jon and Gared.”

Jon tensed up, as if he instantly feared what could be said next. “Why?”

“What?” Tormund chuckled to himself. “All I want to know is, how did it start? Nothing vulgar.”

“With you, everything is vulgar,” Sylvi complained, glancing up from sharpening her spear.

Gared knew that Tormund often had something up his sleeve, when it came to things like this. “Aye, there’s definitely another side to this.”

Tormund rolled his eyes. “I promise, there isn’t. Trust me, I’m only curious.”

Jon pressed himself against Gared’s side. He took his hand, entwining their fingers once again. “It started years ago, at Castle Black. We were atop the Wall together one night, getting to know each other.”

“I was convinced I was going to freeze to death, so Jon gave me an extra pair of gloves.” It had been a rather cold night too, and the extra gloves _helped_. “I wasn’t as used to the cold.”

“We had been joking about how pissing off the Wall together had spread a rumour that we were bedding each other every night.”

“Was it a rumour if it was true?” Tormund narrowed his eyes.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t true then.”

“No,” Gared said, ready to continue their story. “I said if there was anyone I’d want people thinking I was bedding, it would be Jon.”

“And I thought to myself, here is a beautiful man who really cares about people, saying things like that.” He laughed to himself. “So I stepped into his space.”

Gared leant forward. “Bear in mind, this was atop the Wall, anyone could have seen and deemed it unacceptable. But all my own worries about who would see and what they would say didn’t amount to Jon being inches away from my face.”

“Was it me or you who kissed first?”

“You. I remember you moved a little forward, and then we were kissing.”

“We came to love each other quickly after that…” Jon swallowed thickly, glancing away. “Circumstances tore us apart.”

“And now, four years later, we’re back together.” Gared squeezed Jon’s hand, and slowly, he looked to him. He leant his head against Jon’s, nuzzling into his warmth. “I couldn’t be happier.”

Jon smiled, pushing against Gared’s head to lay his own on his shoulder instead. “Being together is more than either of us could have wished for the day we were torn apart.”

“And here you are, both alive!” Tormund grinned. “That’s a beautiful start to a beautiful relationship.”

Sylvi lay her spear on her lap. “Was it easy, to fall in love again?”

“We’re different.” Gared curled his arm around Jon’s waist. “But our connection was still there. I don’t know if I would call it easy, but in a way, yes.”

“We’re more in love now, and I think we owe that to being free,” Jon said, a clear smile in his voice.

“There is nothing better than being free,” Tormund said. “And in a place so extraordinary too.”

“Oh, so you admit it’s extraordinary now?” Gared smirked. Tormund had complained early on, that it was nothing like the myths.

“I guess I do.”

Ensor leant forward. “Does anyone have another story to tell?”

Sylvi tilted her head. “I have one.”

“Go on then.”

\--

Gared loved days like this. Where he could be lazy and take a good break. He was sitting on the bed, with Ghost resting by him, his head on his lap. Tiff had left to go fly outside a little while ago, but beforehand, she had been sleeping happily on her perch. And Jon was… well. He was busy, and Gared was trying his best not to laugh, but it was hard not to.

“Hey, Ghost,” Gared murmured, scratching Ghost’s ear. “Who do you love more? Your father or me?”

“Gared…” Jon grumbled, positioning the wooden carving on the wall again.

Ghost made a soft growling noise.

“You love your father more? Yeah, me too.” He ruffled Ghost’s fur. “He’s a good man.”

“You could help.”

Gared gasped. “But Ghost is on my lap and Ghost never spends this much time with me.”

Jon turned around, sighing. “I can’t decide where I like it best.”

“Just hang it up, you’re being dramatic.”

“Hm. Where do you like it?”

“Anywhere you do.”

He sighed again, turning back around. “You’re no help when it comes to things like this.”

“You’re the one who decided to move it.” Gared smiled, leaning back on his hands. “Besides, you _know_ I’m as useless at this as you are.”

Jon shook his head, placing the carving by the corner. “It feels like the more time that passes, the stubborner you become.”

“I _am_ a Forrester, it’s almost our way.”

There was a second of silence before Jon devolved into laughter, his shoulders shaking with it. Ghost glanced to him, his ear pricking back, clearly checking his master was okay. But as soon as he realised this was a joyous sound, he rested his head back on Gared’s lap, huffing out a breath.

“If it helps, I like it in the middle best.”

Instantly, Jon side stepped to the middle. “It does help.”

As Jon hung up the wooden carving, Gared focused his attention back on Ghost, giving him a thorough stroke. He seemed to enjoy it as he rolled a little more onto his back. He closed his eyes peacefully as Gared massaged his neck. Ghost was simply the best direwolf, and a true companion. He had come to really trust Gared over the years.

“I’m done,” Jon murmured, stepping back to sit on the bed, next to Gared. “What do you think?”

Gared leaned into Jon, smiling. “I think it looks perfectly fine.” He narrowed his eyes at him. “Never touch it again.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

He looked to the carving now. It consisted of Ghost sitting by the weirwood tree, with Tiff standing on his head. It had been something Sylvi decided to do, once she had started to get the hang of wood carving, courtesy of Gared teaching her. The slab of ironwood had been of fantastic quality too, it was a true work of art. Ghost and Tiff were so important to them, to have them immortalised in wood meant a great deal.

Gared gazed at Jon for a long moment. Every time he looked, stared, glanced, he saw something new. After so much time, he didn’t think there could be, but even now, there were new things to discover about him. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

“Every single day for the past two years.” Jon wrapped an arm around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “I love you too.”

Ghost made a small half-hearted whine. He was staring at Jon, like he was jealous that he was giving Gared all the attention. Chuckling, Jon petted him and Ghost instantly relaxed, closing his eyes, happily. He stood up, walking over Gared’s lap (his heavy paws only hurt a little) and rested by Jon, curling up next to him. He was still tired, it seemed, but had enough energy to be jealous.

“Oh… Ghost…” Gared smiled, he was entirely amused by the situation. Ghost didn’t often interrupt, but Jon had been ignoring him for the past hour so he could hang up the bloody carving.

“He’s just telling us he _does_ love me more.” Jon ruffled his fur.

“Yeah and telling you that you should love _him_ more than _me_.”

Jon chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to stroke Ghost. “It doesn’t work that way.” He gave Ghost’s ear a good scratch. “I love Gared in a different way.”

Ghost huffed but seemed content as Jon stroked all his sensitive and tickly points.

“Do you think Gared needs a tickle too?” Jon asked Ghost, who promptly raised his head, his eyes sparkling.

Gared, without a second thought, launched off the bed. “Don’t you dare, Jon.”

“I think he needs a tickle.”

He backed away further, heading to the door. “No…”

Jon patted Ghost twice, causing him to hop off the bed, just as Jon bolted up and ran towards Gared. In a split second, they were both out the door and running through the grove. Gared kept a consistent sprint through the snow, trying not to laugh his head off. If he laughed, that would be the end of this. He could hear Jon encroaching, he was the better endurance runner after all, compared to Gared’s faster sprint.

As he went running past the clearing, he had a clear path in mind. A tree, with a low hanging branch. On his swift approach, he jumped, grabbing onto the branch and swinging himself up. He immediately climbed further, staring down at Jon as he stopped, looking up. He folded his arms as Ghost sat beside him, both looking less than impressed.

“Craven!” Jon shouted with a chuckle.

“Call me craven all you like, but I won’t be tickled today.” He sat down on the thick branch he’d been standing on, swinging his legs. “We can make a deal.”

“What deal?”

Gared smirked. “We kiss instead of you tickling me.”

“Hmm.” Jon tapped his chin. “What if I tickle you _with_ kisses?”

“No tickling!”

“Why not?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he climbed down a branch. “Because it’s not romantic!”

“It’s intimate though!”

“Make the deal, Jon, or I’m not coming down!”

Jon twisted his mouth. “Fine. Deal.”

Gared happily climbed all the way down. As soon as he touched the ground, Ghost padded towards him, nudging his hand for a stroke. At least one of them liked a good tickle. He stroked Ghost a few times, giving him a final pat as he approached Jon.

“This works in your favour,” he said, cupping Jon’s face and kissing him sweetly. It was only a small kiss, but Gared pushed all his feelings of love and joy into it. When he broke away, he didn’t go far, watching as Jon slowly opened his eyes.

“Does it?” Jon whispered back.

“Yeah.” Gared leant towards his ear, breathing hotly. “Means we can be intimate in the hut all day long, if you want.”

Jon grabbed Gared’s hands, already beginning to walk backwards. “Let’s not waste the day.”

He pulled Gared along, and soon they were half running back to the hut, giggling like they were children playing and not adults about to bed each other. This freedom the North Grove allowed them had let them be themselves, in a community of great acceptance. So, they could run through the Grove for no reason, they could be silly and have fun at any moment of the day. There was never any threat. They just lived… peacefully.

Nothing else mattered but that.

And it was so good to share their love with others, to talk about it every day, to say those three words with no worries over who could be watching. Two years of this had been magical in a special way. Love had a greater hold on lands and communities than any other power. Whether it was romantic or familial, love transcended all.

Even a wall.

If anything, Jon and Gared had proved that, in many ways.

And now, happiness resided in them, for all the days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> This was certainly quite a journey to write! I ended up falling right back into the long dead TTGoT fandom! :P It was worth it though, especially since I got some of my favourite headcanons into this!
> 
> I'd appreciate it if you could leave a comment! And hit me up on [my tumblr](https://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat! :)!


End file.
